Into the Known
by xrightwhereitbelongs
Summary: John is doomed to Hell. This is his story. I suck big time at summary's so please just R&R!


**Into the Known  
**_Chapter 1_

**Title:** Into the Known.  
**Rating:** M (R)  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own John Constantine or any other characters involved in the Constantine story. I didn't own anything and I never will so please leave me alone to wallow in self pitty.  
**Summary:** John is doomed to Hell. This is his story. I suck big time at summary's so please just R&R!  
**Warning:** This whole chapter is basically all about suicide so if that's a dodgy issue please read at your own risk.  
**AN:** This was originally just gonna be a one shot but I want to do a little more. I think this is one of my better piece's I spent a while looking over it and fixing mistakes so i'm kinda proud!  
The title into the know as you may have noticed sounds a lot like into the unknown but you'll see where i'm going with it latter! Lol. R&R please.

The world convulsed in pain…  
The world always convulsed in pain.  
Well, at least his world did.  
Nothing was real. Nothing could be understood by his brain. He was indeed incapable of dealing with such total and utter fucking crap.  
Life just didn't seem to be worth it anymore…  
HIS life just didn't seem to be worth it any more.  
The things he had seen… It wasn't natural, wasn't normal in the slightest bit.  
HE wasn't normal. Had he lost his mind amidst all this pain? The tortured screams of the damned had reeled him in blocking out all hope of a better place.  
Taking a deep breath the world seemed to be spinning.  
Merely a blur of colours to his young eyes.  
Is this all his life really came down to, hiding from his nightmares, trying desperately to believe the lie… The lie his parents told him repeatedly.  
_"There is no such thing as demons John"_  
How did they know? How could they possibly see the things he had seen, the evil terrible UNNATURAL things haunting his every waking moment, infecting his dreams.  
No, his life really wasn't worth the pain and hassle. He spent every single second trying to keep his head above the water but didit really matter? One day he would simply grow too tired and drown in this world of self pity.  
Taking another deep breath he tore himself from the warm haven of his bed, plodding silently into the bathroom where he knew salvation lied.  
He didn't seek heaven… No, far from it. All John Constantine really wanted was peace.  
A place to rest.  
A dark world of silence away from all this shit.  
Just within his grasp lay a world of screaming agony, torture, unbearable, unpreventable pain.  
He would never give into that world. He would never allow the demons to reach him.  
He would die first… and that's exactly what he was planing.  
A darkness that sleep had once brought him, the soothing comfort of release.  
He had reached his final destination quite literally.  
This would be the very last place he ever sat.  
This was his very last day in the dread of his life.  
It felt like a terrible burden had finally been lifted from him, he felt light, brighter somehow.  
The thought of death occupied his once innocent mind.  
He hadn't been innocent for quite sometime. Not since the visions, the visions were the things that had sent him spiralling out of control. Sure John Constantine hadn't been the most well behaved kid or the most polite but he had been a KID all the same.  
Now he just felt aged beyond his years… He wasn't supposed to feel so withered, constantly wanting sleep but never being able to achieve it.  
That would all change, it would all change right now.

The bathroom lit up with the fluorescent light attached to the ceiling giving it an eerie glow.  
His reflection was ghostly, ghastly… It just wasn't him. He wasn't the person he remembered. What happened to John Constantine the happy, hyperactive kid?  
His energy had finally dissipated due to months of sleepless nights, he never ate anymore, he was so withdrawn…  
That was the life he had grown accustomed to.  
He was alone in this world, 10 billion people on this dreaded earth and not one of them felt his pain, not one of them knew the suffering he was enduring.  
The cold metallic blade called to him, drawing him to it, ushering him to pick it up.  
His hand twitched begging to be let free, to grasp that enthralling blade.  
He wanted it so badly… His breathing quickened as he imagined the feeling of pure ecstasy that would soon fall upon him.  
His release.  
His escape.  
His destiny, or so he had come to believe.  
Maybe it was his destiny, maybe God wanted him to die.  
Did he even believe in God?  
No, Catholics were such hypocritical bastards. They tell you one thing and then immediately contradict themselves. God loves all his children, God forgives all those who ask for it… Yet he didn't forgive suicide's, homosexuals… Murderers, rapists and pedophiles walked into those golden gates uncharged but the rest… What about the rest? Were they condemned to Hell? No, Hell didn't exist, Heaven didn't exist and God sure as Hell DIDN'T exist either.  
He wanted this and he WOULD have it.

He snatched the steel hungrily into his trembling hand.  
It was cold… Icy cold, his fingers numbed slightly.  
It really was beautiful. The cold metallic steel catching the light… Truly beautiful.  
John had just proved his previous point, he really was insane.  
He brought the steel slowly down to meet his wrist.  
A small shiver ran up his back giving him goose bumps.  
He was so close, so nearly there.  
He stood for a while simply observing the metal placed carefully on his pale wrist.  
He applied no pressure, created no friction… Just simply watched.  
It was time.  
His steely face showed no emotion as he quickly ran the sharp razor horizontally across his wrist.  
Pain.  
Sweet sweet agony.  
It stung like a mother fucker but still his expression didn't change and his hand didn't falter as he moved to do the other wrist.  
He felt the blood begin to flow steadily but that didn't distract him.  
The razor fell to rest lightly on his other wrist.  
Blood stained metal on creamy white flesh… What imagery! It was actually quite poetic.  
He slashed his other wrist revelling in the feeling this brought him.  
He finally dropped the blade with a clatter, perching himself lightly on the edge of the bathtub.  
I smile finally broke his hard expressionless face.  
This was it, the end.

_Crimson blood flowing from severed veins.  
Ecstasy.  
Sheer joy surging through a dying body.  
Eyes growing heavy.  
Mouth growing dry.  
Darkness.  
Darkness beginning to form a heavy vale over thankful eyes.  
The slow of a heartbeat.  
Breath catches in worried lungs.  
Life begins to fade.  
Dreams begin to finally come true for anguished teens.  
Crimson blood flows from severed veins onto white porcelain.  
A heavy body falls loudly into an empty bath.  
Life failing him, life leaving him.  
The remains of a smile placed gently on blue tinged lips.  
Eyes finally fluttering shut.  
Crimson blood flowing from severed veins._


End file.
